Zheng Qing sat hunched in the middle of the desk, clutching a dried fish longer than his arm, gnawing at it with relish. Every now and then, he would tilt his head and lick some water from the cup to moisten his throat harmed by the salt and oil.
I don't know if it's because his original form was a 1.7-meter-tall man, even though he had shrunk into a 30-centimeter-high cat, his appetite hadn't diminished at all—compared to him, the supposedly gluttonous fat cat was retreating to the corner of the table after five small dried fishes, showing off its belly and beginning to doze off in a drowsy state.
Zheng Qing, however, was taking it slow, stuffing food into his seemingly never-to-be-filled stomach, in complete disregard of Xin Fat Man's mournful expression nearby.
Compared to the Xin Fat Man who doted on his snacks, Doctor Xiao Xiao was more concerned about Zheng Qing's current state.
